


All That Can Be Done

by DoubleMastectomy



Category: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Volume Lives, once I think of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleMastectomy/pseuds/DoubleMastectomy
Summary: Neither a bad clap nor a massacre can dust Volume, who makes it out of both in one piece and alive, but his world is still changing. Tensions between killjoys and BL/i are coming to a head, the Fab Four's Girl is back after twelve years, and his family is slowly tearing itself apart. All Volume wants is a peaceful life, but he might have to finish a war before he can get one.
Relationships: The Girl & Volume (Fabulous Killjoys), Val Velocity & Vamos & Vaya & Vinyl & Volume (Fabulous Killjoys), Val Velocity/Vinyl/Volume (Fabulous Killjoys)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	All That Can Be Done

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry for starting so many wip multi-chapter fics at once, I'll finish them all eventually I promise... anyway here's another one 😌
> 
> This is a Volume lives au / also just a blatant re-write of the comics. This first chapter is the only one I have even remotely finished right now, but I've had this fic as a whole in the works for a few weeks (months?) at this point and I'm really looking forward to how it turns out!

Not even the best of plans can stop the desert’s erosion. After a million slow years of wind, dust, and rainfall, you'll get hills, then valleys, then ravines. After a few short months of war, you get craters. Blank space.

“Aren’t you a little worried?”

“About what?”

Sunlight danced around the desert home, ricocheting off wood panel walls in warm glow, but an anxious cloud swirled in the center of this room. The Girl rocked on locked legs, trying not to look too closely at the couch she leaned over, where Volume lay. Chatter carried on around her. The television beeped the sound of space invaders. And although she knew he was still alive, Volume lay there like a statue, unmoving. The worn leather was motionless under him. Around his torso were bandages wrapped in tight cushioned layers, stained faintly. “About your friend,” she answered Vamos finally, “He was shot.”

“Well duh,” Vamos laughed as if she were only concerned about something as trivial as the weather. They didn’t look up, still focused on the TV, battling Vaya's high score. “He's got nothing to worry about! He’s on good terms with the Witch.”

Her eyes shifted back to Volume when he breathed in. It was painful for Volume like before, but less so, his only concern at the moment was how stiff his side felt where the beam grazed him. “Yeah,” he spoke up dryly to confirm Vamos' statement, “And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” He craned his neck to smile at the Girl, praying it didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Unfortunately, the Witch is gonna have to wait.”

He couldn’t see her face well from this angle, but he could see enough to identify the pity on her frown. He didn’t mind. He suspected he might be more delirious than lucid (a byproduct of the pain meds Vaya crowdsourced from the Nest) and could feel his thoughts slipping in and out of his head more than not, but despite this he could still, sadly, remember yesterday's clap clear as day - namely how he’d collapsed on the Girl. And what he said to her.

He’d wanted to protect her. Maybe that alone was foolish. Sandpups were as common as cacti in the desert, whole regions of the Zones were populated with nothing but rebellious teenagers, too young to know how young they were. The Nest itself housed almost as many teenagers under its roof as it housed any other age under thirty. Regardless, the Girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen, two years behind Vaya and Vamos even, and dragging a child into a fight that wasn’t hers was revoltingly wrong as far as Volume was concerned. Needless violence never felt right on his tongue to begin with, but violence for a kid as young as her was especially uncomfortable.

She didn’t protest when Volume held her back, the rest of the Ultra V’s lunging ahead to do their job on the front line. Hovering behind with his focus on the Girl, Volume assumed they were safe enough. A few draculoids, after all, is no big event. But he’d obviously misread the situation - something he’d curse himself over for years to come. With one hand on the Girl’s shoulder and the other clutching the gun at his side, his body reacted to the blast sooner than his mind did. 

He stumbled, lungs frozen. The sensation was like that of getting winded by a bad and sudden punch. When he looked down and saw the blood, the smoldering burn signing his ribcage, it was only then, realizing what must’ve happened, that he felt the pain. The Girl caught him when he fell, but unable to support his weight she completed the fall for him.

Oceans in Volume’s ears roared over his thoughts. He tried, at first, to stay alert to no avail. The Girl said something to him, or maybe she just opened her mouth in shock, but no sound reached him. As if there were a glass wall between his senses and the world. 

He had no intention to survive this. It looked bad. It felt bad. It was too quick to be survivable and he considered himself too much a realist to hope for anything better. But another traumatized teen wouldn’t help anything either, so he’d fix what he could. He pulled down his bandana and prayed to the Witch that the girl could lipread her way through the firefight still sounding off right beside them. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he comforted her in hoarse whispers. He tried his best to ignore the distressed tears welling up in the Girl’s eyes. Their faces were too close together for him to ignore it. “It’s fine - I’m tired. I’m tired of hiding,” was the best condolence he could offer her. 

And now, almost a full day later, Volume felt the Girl’s eyes pierce him. At least she was keeping his pseudo-last words to herself, thank the Witch. If she’d mentioned them to someone already, the fallout would’ve surfaced by now.

He meant what he’d said. He just didn’t anticipate living with the consequences of it. He barely knew this girl, and still he already had no choice but to trust her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/comments appreciated!


End file.
